


Falling Slowly

by rose_coloured



Series: Flowers and Stardust [6]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Regency, Drama, Drama & Romance, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 21:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17271554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_coloured/pseuds/rose_coloured
Summary: One young gentleman is always running away. Away from his father, away from conflicts and away from love. another young gentleman is barely able to move anymore, too scared to overcome his deepest fears.





	Falling Slowly

The wind was pulling on his hair harshly as he was running his horse. Faster, they needed to be faster. They were chased by the sounds of thunder, creeping closer and closer any minute. _Brontide._ As he took a sharp turn left further into the forest, he always forgot this junction, he admitted to himself that he was somewhat thankful for the storm. It blocked his way back home, to his homely life. Instead of turning around he could only go forward, deeper into the dark, that crept onto him from behind the trees. From the dark of the forest and the lake that usually was aflame in the sunset, but now lay there almost black with dark clouds mirrored on its surface. From there to the fields and then further and further.

 

He was sitting next to the windowsill of their small home. He was always sitting there. He spent every single evening sitting there, staring out across the fields to where one could surmise the edge of the woods and the lake. For the last two years he had been sitting there, unmovable not noticing the child first crawling and then at some point walking around him, or the dogs playing in the garden. Sometimes one of his sisters or cousins stayed there with him, their fingers buried in his short locks as if to remind him. Every night he had been sitting here until it had gotten dark. Then he had finally moved, gotten up and gone to bed, without turning around one more time. Tonight, a storm way approaching with low rumbles. _Brontide._ He almost let himself smirk, lost in this memory.

 

 

 

_Two Years Earlier_

 

It had been a hot day when Courfeyrac had come across the lake for the first time. His family had moved here, fleeing yet another upheaval in the capital, to permanently settle in their old rural mansion. Courfeyrac had never been here before but he grew to like the spacious rooms and extensive gardens. And he loved the freedom, that it brought him.

The first time his father had just told him to get out of his sight, Courfeyrac just saddled his newly bought horse and started to go into whatever direction was to his liking. For once it was so easy to avoid his father, he didn’t have to hide in his room and sneak down into the kitchens, no he could go away easily. Running away felt natural to him from this moment on.

 

It had been one of those days, his father and he had been fighting about his studies, about him wanting to go back to the city to continue them. But his father was only talking about bad influences and the wrong social circles, that Courfeyrac apparently moved in.

Instead of hiding, he walked out. And rode a new path he had never been going before. A few months ago, he would have been hesitant about going into the forest, but now he took a sharp turn left and let the calming sounds of the woods wash over him. The rushing sounds of a small stream led his path.

 

When he came out of the woods, Courfeyrac was greeted by the sight of fields with cows and sheep. But what caught his eye was the lake, that lay to his right glistening in the summer sun. He got off his horse and slowly led it towards the water, both of them needed a small cooling. As Courfeyrac approached the shore, walking through the knee-deep grass and wildflower, he noticed that he hadn’t been the only person seeking the water to refresh themselves. There was a bundle of clothes lying in the grass and just as he scanned the waters for the owner, a figure broke through the surface. All he could see was a long cascade of red hair, shining in the sunlight like a flame.

 

His manners told him to turn around, but he couldn’t avert his eyes from the hair and the freckles splayed all over the pale shoulders. And then the person started to laugh, a sound much deeper than he had anticipated, but none the less melodic. He was so struck, that he didn’t notice that the person had turned around.

“You know, Monsieur it is quite rude of a stranger to stare at somebody, even more, if they are undressed. Not even your handsome looks can save you.”, the voice spoke.

He snapped out of his daydreams and was now looking into the eyes of a man, the man from the water, who had swum towards the shore and was now looking at him with amusement in his eyes. Droplets of water were running down his face and chest.

“I…”, he began with a stuttering voice. “I am sorry, Monsieur. I did not see you there, my mind has been wandering.” At least, he comforted himself, it wouldn’t be too obvious if he was blushing in this heat.

“Oh, I can see that you have been somewhere else with your mind. Your horse has been wandering off as well, Monsieur.”, the man pointed out and followed it with a short and sweet laugh.

“What?”, Courfeyrac turned around, only now noticing that his horse had indeed walked towards a nearby tree without him noticing.

“This bloody…”, he sighed. “I guess, I have made one tremendous first impression.”

“I would say you are fine, I myself find my mind wandering at the most incongruous times. And as much as I would like to continue this splendid conversation, I am getting cold and you are blocking the way to my clothes.”

“Right, I am sorry. I should look after my horse anyway.”

 

He awkwardly walked towards the animal and still couldn’t help himself but take a glance at the man coming out of the water. He walked slowly, dreamily in water as well as on the land as if he was moving against a tide. With a shake of his head he turned his attention back to the horse, he was struggling with easing the saddle, when the voice was back this time right next to him.

“Here, let me help you.” He almost jumped at the sound, but before he could move away, slender fingers had pushed his own away, opening the buckles. “You aren’t very experienced with horses, are you?”, the man asked moving from Courfeyrac’s right to the head of his horse slowly scratching it behind its ears.

“Well, no.”, he admitted. Why would he? They didn’t have their own when they had lived in the city and he had skipped riding lessons an awful lot.

“It shows.” Now Courfeyrac turned towards the man. That was… rude. “Oh no don’t look at me like this, Monsieur. I didn’t mean to offend you. I am very sorry. And I am Jehan. Jehan Prouvaire.” He held out his hand, the smile on his face showed his dimples. Courfeyrac took it.

“Je…han? That is a very extravagant name, Monsieur.”

“Well, I am a friend of simple extravagance. I wouldn’t be able to deal with top hats and a stiff tailcoat, in which I can barely move. But a name is something extravagant that is easy to wear.”, Jehan explained and then looked at Courfeyrac with anticipation in his eyes. Courfeyrac stared back, going over the right pronunciation of the name over and over again.

“Oh, I am sorry.”, he snapped himself out of his daydreams. “My name is uhm Courfeyrac… just Courfeyrac.”

“Just Courfeyrac?”, Jehan looked at him confused. “Well, that is a name that tops mine in extravagance.”

“Well, I am not really fond of my first name and since my father is Baron de Courfeyrac and I am not too fond of the aristocracy as well, I chose to go by Courfeyrac.”, he explained. It was a silly thing that was a left-over of his childhood dislike of his first name, but he stood by it, even now.

“Well, then Courfeyrac. It is a pleasure to meet you.”, Jehan said again and there was this gleam in his eyes. Mischievous. Courfeyrac liked it.

“The pleasure is all mine, Jehan Prouvaire.”

 

Over the next weeks, as summer slowly walked towards its peak, he found himself more and more often in the company of Jehan Prouvaire. At first, they had met at the lake for an afternoon swim. Jehan showed him how to handle his horse with more care and in exchange, he stole some books from his father’s extensive libraries. “Oh, I never got my hands on one of them!”, Jehan had exclaimed, reading over a volume of German poetry. Courfeyrac liked watching get excited over the books, in his household there was not much use for them, they merely owned them to seem sophisticated, if guests came over.

“But, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know so many languages? So far, I have brought you books in English, French, German, Latin and ancient Greek. This is extensive.”

Jehan got silent for a second, Courfeyrac could see that he was choosing his words very carefully. The moment passed, and his cheerful expression was back.

“I would like you to know, that I have indeed enjoyed a very extensive education in my youth.” He didn’t say another word and instead jumped up and dragged Courfeyrac back to the water.

 

One particularly hot July night, Courfeyrac met Jehan’s family. Well, in his circles no one would call them a family, more a gang of misfits. At best. On their way, Jehan had shortly explained it. That his family had not wanted to deal with him anymore and had sent him away. How he had found a home with a lovely older woman on her farm just here between the much bigger lands of the barons. And how it had become a safe haven for not only him but others, who pretended to be his siblings of his cousins, as well. How after years of abuse now his sister had found her way to him, how glad he was and how sad at how much she had changed. It was a small family of unloved ones, who now had found love in this place.

 

And where his own country mansion tended to be too big and too dark, like a labyrinth, one could get lost when he was running, Jehan’s place was small, warm and made him feel content enough to stay.

 

This night he stayed over at the farmhouse, not sleeping at all. When the sun rose early, he was playing with Jehan’s hair. The other man was almost asleep on his chest, Courfeyrac could feel his slow and rhythmic heartbeat.

“I love your hair.”, he whispered, and he felt Jehan grin. “I love running my fingers through it, I love the colour and how long you grew it. It makes you look so otherworldly.”

 

Summer passed in a mix of hot days, that stretched like honey and nights spent wide awake, that were over way too soon. Courfeyrac fled his home whenever he could, and the goodbyes were hard every single time, a part of him wanting to stay in the small house next to Jehan. Where he felt like he belonged.

 

The end of summer also brought storms. When they were sitting together one night, next to the window in Jehan’s small room, they heard a low rumble.

“ _Brontide._ ”, Jehan said, his eyes barely open anymore. “A sound like distant thunder. Or in our case distant thunder, I guess.” When the rain started pattering against the window, he averted his gaze from the view of his garden and looked at Courfeyrac. Even in the low light of this stormy night and the almost burnt down candles, Courfeyrac saw that something in his expression was new.

“I think I might be falling in love with you.”, Jehan confessed, shyly taking Courfeyrac’s hand in his own. His let his gaze wander towards the window once again.

“I am glad, that you feel the same as I do. I am just too much of a coward to admit this.”, was all Courfeyrac thought to answer as he lifted his lover’s hand to his mouth and kissed it lightly.

 

Slowly but surely autumn had arrived and when Courfeyrac arrived at the small farmhouse he was absolutely wet and miserable. His father had given in. He had given in to wishes that were old and no longer his. He had given in and told Courfeyrac that come October he would go back to the city to continue his studies.

He didn’t want to leave Jehan.

 

“You want me to go where?”, Courfeyrac had never heard Jehan raise his voice. He was used to softly spoken words, maybe slightly snarky remarks and breathless outcries of pleasure and adoration. But now Jehan was rightfully furious. Furious and intrepid.

“I beg you to consider this, to come with me to the city.”, Courfeyrac tried his best to reason with him, but it only earned him a laugh.

“Why? Why should I? You don’t want to go there yourself, you told me as much. Why follow your father’s orders like a dog? You are your own man, and you told me that you wanted nothing more than stay here. But I have my family here and I love them more than anything.”

“More than me?” As soon as he had said those words, Courfeyrac knew that he had made a grave mistake. A gush of wind rattled on the window shutters and the sound of the storm got louder around them.

“Don’t you dare make me choose. Don’t. Just picture me in the narrow streets of the city among thousands of anonymous people. I can’t do this.”

“You’re just too afraid to leave your cage. Like a bird.”

“This here is not a cage, unlike your mansion. This is my home, where I feel safe. I don’t fit into the city life of the bourgeoisie.”

“We could change this. Just cut your hair and get respectable clothes, you could become a real part of society and…” Courfeyrac wasn’t able to finish his sentence. He had seen the look on Jehan’s face as he spoke those words. Something in his eyes had died.

“You’re like them. I should have known.” Jehan slowly stepped back from him. One step. Another one. Another one. Until his back hit the kitchen cupboards. Courfeyrac took one step towards him.

“Look, I didn’t…” But Jehan interrupted him.

“Don’t you dare.”

 

 

❀ ❀ ❀

 

 

And then, because it was the thing he knew how to do, Courfeyrac left. He left without turning around one more time and when he arrived home, he begged his father to let him depart for the city next week already.

 

He reached the farmhouse. It was the same as it had been two years before. After he had run away, he had spent the next days until his departure in his rooms. During the last two years of his studies, he had not once returned to the country mansion. But now he was back, and he didn’t know what to say.

There were lights on in the kitchen, it was the room overlooking the path towards the house. And there he was sitting, almost motionless. If he was honest, Courfeyrac had to admit that he was shocked to see him sitting there. He didn’t know if it was the defeated posture or his hair. It was his fault, he knew that for sure.

It was his fault, that Jehan was sitting at the kitchen window like this, with his hair all cut off. It was shorter than his own Courfeyrac noticed. And it looked wrong. Yes, this Jehan would probably not attract any attention among the upper class. Which was wrong, because Jehan was so radiant that he should always attract everybody’s attention.

The guilt made Courfeyrac recoil and his horse started to nervously sidle about, afraid of the storm approaching them. And then a second figure came into the kitchen. It was a woman, clad in nothing but a nightgown and with a small child in her arms. She bowed down to Jehan kissing his cheek and letting her fingers glide through his hair. The scene in front of him felt like daggers stabbing his gut. He had to get away from here. He couldn’t do this, it was too late. He had to leave. Now.

 

He was sitting at the window a book in his lap, that he hadn’t read at all. It at least let him pretend that he was busy when somebody came by. With a low squeak, the door to the kitchen opened and Émilie walked in, her sleeping child in her arms. “Oh love, you should go to bed. The fireplace has gone out hours ago.”, she scolded him lightly.

“I’m not cold, I still have a few more days of summer left, after all.”, Jehan hummed. She only chuckled and then bowed down to kiss his cheek, like she always did, before she headed to bed. “I am retreating to my room for tonight, love. Don’t stay up for too long.” Her fingers played with his hair for a moment, before she turned around to leave.

Jehan turned his head to look after her when he saw something from the corner of his eyes. Something shiny had just flashed outside the window.  He saw something moving. It was a horse. This couldn’t be.

For a second, he was frozen in his place. Could he really just get up? He shouldn’t get his hopes up. But after all… This was what he had been hoping for the last two years when he had sat at the window every night. A part of him warned him to stay here, not take the risk. But he jumped out of his seat, knocking over the chair and ran towards the front door, not caring that he wasn’t wearing a coat or shoes.

He ran out only to see the horse turning around. No! He couldn’t lose him. Not again. Not like this.

So, he started running. And he shouted from the top of his lungs. “Stop! Oh, please, if it’s you. Please, for just a second stop!”

And he did. The horse stopped and then turned around trotting towards him, where he was standing. The rain had started now and Jehan felt like a mess, standing there in the dirt shivering. How would he ever take him back?

 

But when Courfeyrac approached him and descended from his horse, he didn’t care anymore. Instead, he just ran towards him, falling into his arms.

“You are back. You are here! You… I missed you.”, was all he got out before his voice abandoned him.  He couldn’t believe, that it truly way Courfeyrac, who was pulling him closer, their bodies crashing together.

“I am so sorry.”, Courfeyrac whispered and Jehan wanted to scream. It was like the pain of that night had come back after two years of catatonia. Once again it felt like he was slapped across the face, bringing back all those dark memories.

But now he was ready to forgive Courfeyrac. And to admit his own errors. “I am sorry, too. So sorry I should have heard you out.”

“No. I knew about your past and still said those words, it is me, who must beg for forgiveness. It may be too late for me to win back your love, but at least grant me your forgiveness, so I can disappear again in peace.”

 

“You are leaving? Again?”, Jehan pushed Courfeyrac away from him, only now seeing him completely. He was wearing a tailcoat and a bloody top hat, that he was now picking up from the ground. Of course, he was only here for a visit, maybe a family affair. How foolish of him to believe, Courfeyrac would have come back for him.

“I guess, I will.”, Courfeyrac said with a certain sadness in his eyes. Jehan wanted to hug him, kiss him, make him feel better. Make him feel loved.

“I came here in a foolish hope, but I saw your wife. And I don’t want to intrude, so I guess I should leave again.” Jehan gasped for air, as he heard those words. The relief made him feel lightheaded and he couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“My wife?”, he asked.

“Yes, your wife and your child. I am sorry, for I should not have watched you through your windows.”, Courfeyrac answered him, biting his lip at the end of his sentence as if he wanted to keep himself for saying more.

“Oh, you mean Émilie. She’s come to us because she had the child out of wedlock and the father left her.”, Jehan stated, trying to keep himself from laughing. Or just kissing Courfeyrac senseless.

“So, she’s not your wife?”

“No. Just a good friend, who cares about me.”

Jehan saw something in Courfeyrac’s expression change and before he knew what was happening, he was pulled into a kiss.

“I have missed you so much, it almost made me go crazy in this damn city.”, Courfeyrac admitted later when they were once again lying in his bed, his head on Courfeyrac’s chest.

“I have missed you too, I went a bit mad myself as you may have noticed.”, Jehan said gesturing to his hair. “But I think I will grow it back. As long as you don’t want to go back into the upper circles of society? Because I will not let you leave without me this time.”

“Let it grow back, I am very comfortable here. This is a home and I don’t want to leave. You are my home.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a late Christmas present for my dearest Fra, who is the reason I write about those two.


End file.
